THE UNCOMPROMISING ITALIAN

by Cathy Williams

  Maybe she was ready to show Hafiz what she had learned over the past few months. She wasn’t fluent and didn’t know everything about the culture, but she was getting impatient. It was time to meet his family and friends.

  Lacey bit her lip as she imagined making that demand. The idea made her uncomfortable. She had been stalling. Not because his family was royal but because she was worried she would push too soon.

  Lacey didn’t want to give an ultimatum. The last time she’d taken a stand she had lost everything. She wasn’t ready to lose Hafiz. Unlike her parents, who had no problems walking away from her in pursuit of their dreams, Hafiz hadn’t been able to bear leaving her and had brought her to his home. Well, not his home, but his home country.

  As much as she wanted to be part of Hafiz’s life and share her life with him, she needed to be patient. She had to trust that Hafiz knew what he was doing. Lacey sighed deeply. She wasn’t used to allowing another to take charge.

  But she was in a country that followed different codes of conduct. She was also in love with a prince, and she didn’t know much about royal life. Her presence in Hafiz’s world required delicacy.

  Lacey was amazed that Hafiz could even breathe among all the rules and regulations. But not once did he complain. His strong shoulders never sagged from the burden. The man was driven to attack every challenge and reach a goal he never discussed, but Lacey guessed that world domination was just the beginning. His obligations were never far from his mind. That is, until he was in bed with her. Then the world stopped as they fulfilled every fantasy their bodies craved and every wish their hearts desired.

  Pleasure nestled low in her stomach, beneath the stifling black gabardine caftan. Lacey stuffed the English newspaper into her plastic shopping bag that contained the crimson desert flowers. She hoped the article offered good news, although she couldn’t imagine the press saying anything less than flattering.

  She hurried off the curb, and the blowing horn of a filthy truck had her jumping back to the sidewalk. Reddish clouds billowed from the dirt road and settled into a fine layer on her soft black boots.

  She waved her hand in front of her face, blinking away the grit. Lacey wrinkled her nose at the tart smell of animals, car fumes and rotting sewage. She knew the small country just recently came into wealth, but if this was a decade of progress, she was grateful she hadn’t seen the unenlightened country.

  A memory flickered of Hafiz talking about his country when they had first met. He’d spoken with love and pride about the rich heritage and romance of the desert. Hafiz had described the tribal music and the exotic spices lingering in the starry nights. When he’d told the story of how the sultanate had been named after the first sultana, Lacey had thought Rudaynah had to be a romantic paradise.

  Never trust a man’s idea of romance, Lacey decided as she determinedly stepped into traffic. The high-pitched ring of bicycle bells shrieked in her ears as she zigzagged her way across the street. She dodged a bored donkey pulling a cart of pungent waste matter. A bus whipped past, her plastic bag swatting against one of the male passengers hanging outside the overcrowded and rusted vehicle.

  Lacey hurried to her apartment in earnest. Shadows grew longer and darker as the sun dipped precariously closer to the horizon. She nodded a greeting to the armed guards at the gates of the condominium complex. The men, all in olive green uniforms and sporting bushy mustaches, waved her in without a pause in their conversation.

  She scurried across the bare courtyard, pausing only as a big insect with a vicious-sounding buzz flew in front of her. Gritting her teeth as she shuddered with revulsion, Lacey turned the corner to access the private elevator that would lead her straight to the penthouse apartment.

  She halted when she saw a man waiting for the elevator. Lacey barely had time to gasp as her mind snatched a flurry of disjointed images. A white flowing robe. A golden chord over the white kaffiyeh that covered his hair. She didn’t need to see the man’s face to sense the impenetrable wall of arrogant masculinity. Of power and privilege. There was only one man who enjoyed a life with no limitations or impossibilities.

  “Hafiz?” she whispered.

  * * *

  Prince Hafiz ibn Yusuf Qadi whirled around. “Lacey?” He moved forward and stared at her. He slowly blinked and frowned. His sexy and glamorous mistress was wearing a shapeless caftan and a hideous scarf. There wasn’t a hint of makeup on her pale face, but she was still a stunning beauty.

  “What are you doing down here?” Prince Hafiz plucked off her sunglasses. He needed to see her eyes. He could always tell what she was thinking and feeling when he met her bright blue gaze.

  After he snatched the glasses, Hafiz pushed down the head scarf and was rewarded with a cascade of copper-red curls. His fingers flexed. He wanted to touch her hair. Fan it out and allow the last rays of the sun to catch the fiery color. Sink his fingers into the soft weight as he kissed her hard.

  Instead, he slowly, reluctantly, let his hand fall to his side. He gripped her sunglasses until the tips of his fingers whitened. He could not touch her. Not here, not in public. One graze, one brush of skin, and he wouldn’t stop.

  It didn’t help that Lacey wanted to greet him with a kiss. The sight of her closed eyes and parted lips whirled him back to the first time he’d seen her. That fateful night he had entered the luxury hotel near the St. Louis waterfront.

  The lobby had bustled with activity and there was a piano bar to the side. The deceptively languorous music had caught his attention, but it was her singing that had made him turn around. Soft and clear like the voice of a well-bred lady, but so rich and velvety that it sparked his wicked imagination.

  And when he had seen her, his heart had slammed against his ribs. Lacey was an intriguing mix of contrasts. She had looked like an innocent girl, but her voice held a wealth of experience. Her red hair had flowed past her shoulders like a veil, touching the simple blue evening gown. It should have been a modest dress that covered her from her slender neck to her delicate ankles, yet it had lovingly clung to every curve.

  Hafiz had known she was trouble, but that hadn’t stopped him from walking toward the piano as she’d coaxed a longing note from the ivory keys.

  She hadn’t seen his approach as she closed her eyes and raised her flushed face to the sky, swept away from the music. And he had allowed her to take him with her.

  Hafiz forced himself to the present and away from the untroubled past. His gaze drifted to the voluminous black gown veiling her body from his eyes. For some reason, that irked him. “What are you wearing?”

  She opened her eyes and frowned before she placed her hands on her hips. The movement gave him some indication of where the soft swells and curves were underneath her outfit. “I could ask the same about you,” she said as her wide eyes roamed over his appearance. “I have never seen you like this. It’s straight out of Lawrence of Arabia.”

  Lacey’s voice was deep and husky as the desire shone in her eyes. When she looked at him like that... His skin flushed and pulled tight. How did this woman make him this hot, this fast, without even touching him?

  His body hardened, and he gulped in the hot desert air. He could take Lacey against this hidden corner and capture her cries of ecstasy with his mouth within minutes. All he needed was... Hafiz shook his head slightly. What was he thinking? The last thing he needed was for the sultan to discover he had a mistress living in the shadow of the palace.

  “This is a dishdasha,” he explained gruffly as he tried to contain the lust that heated his blood. “I wear it for royal functions. Now explain what you are doing outside alone.”

  She held up her plastic bag and lightly jostled the contents. “I went shopping.”

  “Shopping,” he repeated dully.

  “Yes, I wear this whenever I leave the apartment.” She glided her hand down the black gabardine with the flair of a game show model demonstrating a prize. “I know Rudaynah only asks tourists to dress modestly, but I don’t know if I f
all in that category. I’m not quite a tourist, but I’m not quite a resident, am I? I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  Hafiz barely heard the question. Whenever she left? She had done this more than once? Routinely? What did she do? Where did she go? And with whom?

  It wouldn’t be with a man. He knew he could trust Lacey. She had fallen in love with him that first night and saw no reason to deny it.

  But he didn’t like the possibility that she had a life apart from him. He was the center of her world, and he didn’t want that to end. “Whenever you leave?” he asked as his eyebrows dipped into a ferocious frown. “How often do you go out?”

  “You don’t need to worry about me.” Lacey’s smile dropped. “Or are you worried that one of your friends or relatives will meet me?”

  Hafiz heard the edge in her tone and felt her impatience. He surrendered to the need to touch her and delve his hands into her hair. He needed to feel the connection that sizzled between them.

  Hafiz spanned his fingers along the base of her head and tilted her face up. “I thought you spend your days playing your music,” he murmured distractedly.

  “And dreaming about you?”

  “Of course,” he said with a slanted smile.

  Her smooth brow wrinkled as she considered what he said. “I can think of you while I’m shopping. I’m talented that way.”

  “No.” His sharp tone stanched any argument. “No more excursions. You don’t know the language or the country.”

  “How else am I going to learn if I don’t get out and—”

  “You have servants who can shop for you. Yes, yes.” He held his hand up as she tried to interrupt. “You’ve already told me. You’re not comfortable with the idea of someone waiting on you. But they are here to take care of you.”

  “You can’t hide me inside all the time,” she insisted as she pressed her hand against his chest. His heart thudded from her touch. “I’m not Rapunzel.”

  “I know,” he said resignedly. She often mentioned that European fairy tale. She once told him the basic story line, but someday he needed to read it in case there was more he should know.

  Lacey leaned against the wall and sighed. Hafiz flattened his hands next to her head, her sunglasses dangling from his loose grasp. He stared at her mouth, his lips stinging with the need to kiss her.

  But this was as close as he would allow himself. If he leaned into her softness, he wouldn’t leave.

  The tip of her tongue swept along her bottom lip. “Hafiz, we’re outside,” she reminded him, her voice hitching with scandalized excitement. “You shouldn’t be this close.”

  He knew it, but it didn’t stop him. She was his one and only vice, and he was willingly addicted. He had already risked everything to be with her. Each day he made the choice to risk everything for her. But now the choice was taken away from him, and it was all coming to an end.

  He bent his head and stopped abruptly. He should pull away. Hafiz remained still as he stared at Lacey’s mouth. Their ragged breathing sounded loud to his ears. One kiss could bring him peace or could set him on fire. One kiss would lead to another.

  As if he were in a trance, Hafiz grazed his fingertips against her brow. He caressed her cheek, wishing it were his mouth on her. Hafiz swallowed hard as he remembered how her skin tasted.

  He shouldn’t be with her. No, it was more than that. He shouldn’t want to be with her. Lacey Maxwell was forbidden.

  Wanting Lacey went against everything he had been taught. He should only find honorable and chaste women from his sultanate attractive. Yet the only woman he noticed was Lacey.

  She was bold and beautiful. Instead of hiding her curves, she flaunted her body. She showed no shame in her desire for him. And instead of trying to tame him, Lacey encouraged the wild streak inside him that he had tried so hard to suffocate.

  The sound of his heartbeat pounded in his ears as he stroked Lacey’s jaw. She tilted her head, exposing her slender throat. He wanted to sweep his fingers along the elegant column and dip his hand beneath the caftan. He wanted to hear her shallow breaths turn into groans and whispers.

  But that would be reckless. Hafiz dragged his thumb against her lips. He traced the shape of her mouth over and over until her lips clung to his skin.

  Lacey turned her face away. Hafiz gripped her chin and held her still. With a growl of surrender, he bent down to claim her mouth with his.

  “Hafiz,” she whispered fiercely. “We will be seen.”

  That warning could form ice in his sizzling veins like no other. His chest rose and fell as he reined in runaway needs. With great reluctance, he drew away.

  “We should leave before one of the neighbors spots me,” Lacey said shakily as she pulled the scarf over her head.

  Disappointment scored his chest as she tucked her glorious hair away. “I don’t like seeing you covered up like this.” He never thought about how he would feel seeing his woman veiled, but it felt intrinsically wrong to conceal Lacey’s captivating beauty and character.

  “Believe me, I don’t like wearing it.” She reached for her sunglasses. “It’s like an oven, but it makes me invisible and that’s all that matters.”

  He flashed a disbelieving look. “Lacey, you could never be invisible.”

  Her smile was dazzling as she blushed with pleasure. It was as if he had given her the ultimate compliment.

  “Take off your scarf,” he insisted in a rough whisper. “No one will see. Everyone will be at prayer.” Hafiz wondered why he resented the scarf and sunglasses so much that he was willing to risk the chance of discovery. He reached for her arm and pulled her close.

  “Don’t be too sure. Most people acted like they were ready to celebrate tonight. I don’t know why—” The plastic bag fell from her wrist. She bent down to retrieve the contents, and he followed her descent. Her sharp cry startled him.

  “Lacey?” He looked down at the cracked cement floor and didn’t understand what was wrong when he saw the dark red flowers resting unblemished on the floor. He almost missed the English newspaper with his picture on the front page. The bold headline grabbed him by the throat and hurtled him into despair.

  Prince Hafiz to Marry

  Copyright © 2014 by Susanna Carr

  ISBN-13: 9781460340455

  The Uncompromising Italian

  Copyright © 2014 by Cathy Williams

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com